The Itch You Can't Scratch
by Lillia-Lillia
Summary: In this snippet of dorm life, Fred discovers he has an itch he can't quite scratch. See if you can diagnose him! One-shot. No pairings.


**This is a silly fic I wrote for Macceh's Three AM Challenge on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum. It takes place in Lee Jordan and the twins' seventh year at Hogwarts. In this snippet of dorm life, Fred discovers he has an itch he can't quite scratch. See if you can diagnose him!**

**Rating: T for one curse and the subject matter**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter  
**

**The Itch You Can't Scratch**

The wee hours of the morning were never intended to be seen by sane humans, but unfortunately, Lee Jordan had the displeasure of seeing them. The wiry, dark-skinned boy lay sprawled across his four-poster bed, staring at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes. His right hand still burned and throbbed from his latest detention session with Umbridge, in which he'd carved another powerful message about good behavior into his flesh. He wanted nothing more than to drift into sweet, sweet unconsciousness, but the Weasley twins, engrossed in a serious late-night discussion, were keeping him wide awake.

"Do you think you could have gotten it from the toilet seat?" George whispered earnestly to his brother. Lee could see their shadows through the drawn crimson curtains; George perched nervously on the edge of Fred's bed.

"The toilet seat? Now when in the name of Merlin's beard did _that_ become a possibility?"

Lee saw George's shadow shrug. "_Merlin's beard_, you say? Actually, it's quite a bit more likely that you acquired said issue from Merlin's beard. These little buggers can survive in facial hair, armpit hair…you name it, and they colonize it."

Fred-shadow slugged George-shadow. "Honestly George, this is one of those rare occasions where we must be so serious that we make professor Binns look like a clowning jokester."

"Well, alright then, dear brother. Have you been wearing anyone else's soiled underwear?"

Fred hissed loudly and his twin shushed him. "George, c'mon! You know I don't let my wedding tackle venture into anyone else's reception! I don't put my sex pistol into someone else's holster!"

"Please never again refer to your one-eyed yogurt thrower as a 'sex pistol' in front of me. Muggle Studies will never be the same again."

Fred-shadow wrung its hands. "Let's get back on topic here."

"I was staying on topic," George replied. "I understand these things can fester in dirty underpants, towels, bedding…" With that, he jumped up. "Maybe I shouldn't be sitting here. This could be ground zero!"

"Shut up, they're not coming from my bed!" Fred insisted. "And keep it down; we don't want to wake up the others."

They fell silent for a moment. The other two dorm mates were snoring gently on the other side of the room. The early rays of morning drifted through their expansive tower window, casting everything into a peaceful gold. Lee felt himself drift off again before Fred's voice jerked him awake again.

"It's just, it _itches_ so bad…It truly is the itch you can't scratch…" he added pensively.

"Have you spoken to anyone about this problem? Madam Pomfrey? Lee?"

Lee stiffened at the sound of his name as Fred-shadow shook his head. "No, I haven't told Lee yet. And I can't tell Madam Pomfrey! Oh, the shame of it all, I tell you!"

"But it's her job to deal with problems like this, even if they take place in the—eh—genital region. She never asks many questions. She'll probably just give you some cream or something. And unless you're planning on bedding her, it shouldn't really matter."

"That's gross," Fred interjected.

"So are pubic lice." George replied.

Lee's bloodshot eyes bulged and his hand throbbed harder with the increase in his heart rate. Fred had crabs? _Crabs_? And here he was, lying in the same dorm as him with parasites all over his junk? Lee's hands wandered to his delightfully messy dreadlocks. He couldn't put those babies in danger if Fred had crabs. He'd have to speak up.

"Do you really think three in the morning is the appropriate time to be discussing this?" He hissed, making his presence known to the twins. George and Fred both jumped, startled, and Lee could only imagine the latter must have turned crimson.

"Lee! How much did you hear?" Fred breathed, his voice raspy but low, as to not wake up their sleeping roommates.

"Enough to figure out that you gots yourself a couple of friends down south, huh?"

There was some scuffling on the other side of the curtains, and Fred materialized above Lee's face, clutching him by the nightshirt. "Whoa!" Lee cried, scuttling backwards. "If you's infected, stay the hell off my bed!" His movement threw Fred off balance and he tumbled on top of Lee. Both boys, horrified at being together in the same bed, shouted and shoved at the other. In the end, they rolled off the other side and were deposited loudly in a heap on the floor.

"What the hell's going on in here?" cried one of the rudely awakened dorm mates. "Can't a guy get some sleep in this joint?"

"Fred's got crabs!" Lee hollered.

"Shut your mouth, Jordan!"

"What?"

"_What_?" The last roommate had woken up. "Angelina has crabs?"

"Wha—_no_!" Fred asserted, his voice raised to a holler. "I didn't get them from Angelina!"

"Then where'd you get them?" demanded the groggy roommate.

"I don't know!" Fred wailed, raising his fists to the heavens. The room was lighting up fast and the usual humor was gone from his face.

"Well, you have to see Madam Pomfrey," the roommate said. "You could give them to us if you're not careful."

"C'mon Fred, think," said Lee, trying hard to be helpful despite how uncomfortable he was with sharing a room with a guy with pubic lice.

Fred cut his eyes over to Lee, still weary after having been thrown to the floor. "What?"

"Think. Did you get hexed? Did you piss anyone off lately? Prank the wrong person?"

Fred chewed his lip for a moment before his eyes lit up. "That's it! I was reading a book in the restr—"

George cut him off. "You were _reading_?"

Fred silenced him with a finger. "Hear me out, dear brother." He stood in the center of the dorm with the poise of a great speech giver. "I was reading a book I found in the restricted section. It was supposed to be an anthology of classic pranks from the sixteenth century. I wanted to refresh some old ideas, you see. But when I opened to page thirty-nine-and-a-half—"

"There was a page -nine-and-a-half?" Lee asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes, and I shit you not!" He raised a finger to emphasize his point. "Anyways, the book was extra dusty on the page in question, so I brushed it off with my hand. I thought nothing of it at the time, but then I came back to the tower for a much needed shower…" He trailed off, blushing slightly. "I gave my sex pistol—"

"Hey!" George interrupted, "what did I say about using the term, 'sex pistol' to describe your twig and berries."

"Must you keep interrupting me? Anyways, I was giving my…trouser python a much needed rub down in the shower, and, well, I suppose the dust was not as harmless as I thought."

"You think it was a curse?" One of the roommates asked.

Fred nodded.

"Well," Lee said, yawning. "As long as you can make it to tomorrow morning, you should tell Madam Pomfrey and get that cleared up."

"Yeah, I will."

The boys retreated to their respected beds. It had been a pretty amusing morning at Fred's expense, Lee thought, but he was happy to be getting back to sleep. Just as he'd drifted off, nearly forgetting about his aching hand, Fred's voice filled the room.

"It's a shame I got crabs without actually having the sex part to enjoy before the itch…"

"Fred, shut up! It's three in the morning!" Lee cried, rolling his face into the pillow.

"Ha, okay. Sorry."

And the dorm once again, sank into blissful silence.

**Thanks for reading! I hope it was amusing enough to evoke a few smiles and smirks. I do love reviews!**


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